


what might be

by Visardist



Category: The Posterchildren - Kitty Burroughs
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-11
Updated: 2014-06-11
Packaged: 2018-02-04 06:21:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1768828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Visardist/pseuds/Visardist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Wanweird- an unhappy fate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	what might be

**Author's Note:**

> Written for toalwaysbeme on tumblr.

When Marshal was seven, he and his father went to the State Fair. It wasn’t a very fun experience, because sensory overload would never be fun for Marshal, but there were some highlights.

 

He remembers the fortune teller’s tent clearly, because while it had smelled very strongly of herbs, entering it mostly blotted out the oncoming headache. His dad had told him it was a crock, but he’d let Marshal lead the way even so. See how gullible people can be, he’d said.

 

"Welcome, welcome, sirs… Madame Bellissima welcomes you to her tent of dreams and destiny…" the fortune teller crooned, weaving a little from side to side in her chair in front of a crystal ball and a tatty stack of Tarot cards. She wore a bunch of what looked like blues, very ostentatiously, and fairly dripped with clinking jewelry, but Marshal saw that she wore a blue band too. At least, it  _looked_  blue, but it wasn’t the same shade as the official blue band. His dad had been training him on telling them apart, since most of them looked the same colour to him. This looked darker- probably purple.

 

He perked up. “Are you a precognitive, ma’am? Um, I mean, Madame Bellissima?”

 

She smiled at them, a little dreamily, and opened her mouth to answer before spotting Marshal’s own orange band. Then- well, it looked rather like she deflated, but only a little bit. “Nah,” she said, sounding a good deal more down-to-earth than before. “I’m actually kind of a polyglot— I can answer anyone in their own language without having heard it before. But it helps with the rubes.” She winked at them.

 

Marshal’s dad laughed. “See, brat? That’s what I mean by gullible. Show ‘em a little somethin’ and suggest another thing, and damn if they don’t come up with something altogether themselves.”

 

"It’s a living," Madame Bellissima said, shrugging and spreading her hands. "Do you still want a fortune? On the house. Crystal ball’s all out of my own head, standard formula, but the Tarot cards are always interesting.”

 

Marshal looked hopefully up at his dad, who shook his head, but gave Marshal’s shoulder a small push. The boy scrambled gleefully into the chair, and took the cards she presented him.

 

"Shuffle them as much as you want, then take three cards from anywhere in the deck and put them face-down," she directed. Marshal did as told, shuffling the large cards with enormous concentration, and put the cards down, spaced fairly evenly. She tapped each of them in turn, left to right from his perspective, Marshal’s dad leaning over the high chair to get a look.

 

"Past, Present and Future," she told them. "If you use more cards, you get more details, but no one’s ever satisfied with what they get from those." Marshal listened, enraptured, and she turned over the Past card.

 

"Two of Wands. That’s a happy card- means that whatever plans you’ve got, they’re planned out well. Working towards a good goal." She grinned at them. "School’s going well, huh?"

 

"His grades are okay," Marshal’s dad answered. Marshal could tell he was rolling his eyes, but Marshal felt pleased all the same. "Get on with it, will ya?"

 

"Daa _aaaad_ ,” Marshal protested, for the sake of getting his (lack of) money’s worth.

 

Madame Bellissima snorted and turned over the Present card. “Four of Cups. That’s not so good- pretty worrying. A warning card. You’ve got a happy life, both of you, but take care not to let it slip away.”

 

"I won’t," Marshal said stoutly, though he could tell his dad was rolling his eyes again. "How about the future?"

 

She turned the Future card over, and raised an eyebrow. “Justice. You get what you deserve. So I suppose you’d better watch yourself, kid.”

 

"Or he can remember that these are all just cardboard and art and fakery," his dad deadpanned. "Had your fill, brat?"

 

"Sure, dad," Marshal said, scrambling out of the chair. "Thanks a lot, Madame Bellissima. That was fun."

 

—-

 

When Mal was twelve, he and his father went to the State Fair, so Mal would know what they were like. They did not visit the fortune teller.


End file.
